eyesflushed
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"I'm in fucking space prison, Morty. You'd know that if you weren't living under a rock. Didn't they have my mugshot plastered all around the goddamn news?"
"You said... you said you were going to get ice cream."
"Yeah well..." Rick sighs. "Things don't always go to plan."
After hearing the tone of his voice, Morty confirmed the one scenario he couldn't help thinking about on sleepless nights. No one could really catch Rick Sanchez. Which left him with one possibility: Rick gave himself up.
Morty collapses back on the bed. His body suddenly felt heavy and he didn't trust himself to keep sitting up. He turns to the side, holding the phone close to his ear.
"I wished you could have told me what was the plan in the first place."
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Rick calls Morty at the middle of the night while he's in space prison. Let's just say Morty's very persuasive in motivating his grandpa to orchestrate a little prison break.
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Jackie just cocks his head, playing it cool—way too cool for the proposition he’s just tossed at her. “I mean, you’re tellin’ me you’ve never thought about it?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Can’t. There’s no version of the truth that doesn’t blow a hole in something.
Because yes. Holy shit yes.
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He loves her. He’s still not entirely certain what exactly love is or what it should feel like—but he was spinning, in free fall—and now everything has snapped into focus. This is it. He knows he has found truth.
Lucifer is high, he's in love, and it's date night.
Series
- Part 4 of Moment's Silence (Common Tongue)
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Herman's eyes brim with tears, face flushed as he whimpers. The cheap plastic chair creaks under their combined weight. Herman's voice breaks on a strangled moan, the sound raw and utterly wrecked as it tears from his throat. Fresh tears streak down his already flushed cheeks, his breath hitching between desperate sobs. Robert thinks he's never seen anything sweeter than Herman falling apart like this as those large hands dig into skin as Robert bounces on his cock. And in that moment, Robert wants to eat him alive.
Short summary: Robert rides Waterboy in that stupid chair he sleeps in.
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[one-shots about dispatch!]
"You gonna eat that twink?" Sonar, one of the reformed-villains on his team, questioned from his position by the coffee maker.
"What?" Robert exclaimed, panicking as he wondered how Sonar knew--was he that obvious? Was there gossip around the office about how hot and bothered Robert couldn't help but get whenever he laid eyes on Water Boy? He needed to kill himself, and he needed to do it quickly.
"The twink you just crushed in your hand," Sonar replied flatly. "Are you gonna eat that?"